


The Morning After

by Fire_Sign



Series: Phrack Fucking Fridays [14]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, pff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 01:50:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Sign/pseuds/Fire_Sign
Summary: The reunion had been every bit as passionate and explosive as Phryne had imagined. This is the morning after.





	The Morning After

**Author's Note:**

> Incredibly, this is the first anniversary of Phrack Fucking Fridays. I am staggered that what was essentially a joke (and a plea for more smut) has continued this long. I had a complex, E-rated fic planned. It is not even remotely closed to finish, so y'all are getting a short fluff fic instead. Fair warning, the sentimental borders on cloying.

Their reunion had been every bit as passionate and explosive as Phryne had imagined; roaming hands and teeth and tongues, endearments and curses uttered in reverence, bodies moving together until they were both spent. They’d drifted off to sleep, still entwined, in the early hours of the morning. And now Phryne was awake once more, head propped up on one elbow as she watched him sleep.

Jack was, unsurprisingly, fascinating to watch. The movement of his long eyelashes, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, one hand resting against his cheek. She could watch him for hours, she thought, remembering all the things his mouth and fingers and cock had done the night before, all the things she hoped they would do in the future. Eventually he stirred, and the sunlight hit his cheek, highlighting the early morning stubble. It was such a simple thing, really, one she’d seen on plenty of men after a night in her bed, but it took her breath away. 

There’d been no sign of it the morning after his previous night in her bed.

She could remember being bare inches apart as he attempted to regain his dignity, the sunlight from the stained glass illuminating his face, teasing him about undressing him, relieved that he’d been alright but unwilling to let such a good opportunity pass by without remark. There’d been no sign of it then, and the knowledge that he must have shaved in preparation for their dinner… it was too much to resist, and she reached out to stroke his cheek; he smiled, eyes still shut.

“Miss Fisher.”

She opened her mouth as if to speak, but the words didn’t come. She bent her head instead, nuzzling his cheek against her own and breathing him in. 

“Phryne?”

He was curious but not concerned, the hand by his side snaking around her waist to tug her closer, pressing her body against his. She turned her head to brush kisses against his jaw, catching a hint of mingled morning breath; it was oddly endearing, and she was smiling as she pulled away to retrieve a tin of mints from the bedside table. She took one and then held out the tin in offer, arching an eyebrow but still not speaking. He took two, the curiosity on his face now mingled with amusement, and popped them into his mouth.

Sucking on her mint, Phryne took his hand in hers, running her fingers along the palm; she remembered another moment, so much the same and so much different, and declaring his heart was as deep as the Pacific Ocean. She had meant it then, standing on the shore and letting the water lap at her toes; she was swimming in it now, the water warm and buoyant. She raised his hand to her lips, kissing his wrist; gooseflesh rippled across his skin at her touch, and she smiled again. 

She kissed up his arm, down his chest, flicking her tongue against his nipple in playful reprimand when he became restless. Lower, lower, her hand caressing his cock, his hand in her hair; when her warm breath hit his member he gasped, fingers curling in her hair. 

“Phryne--oh fuck.”

Phryne smiled around the cock in her mouth, her tongue swirling around his head making him moan. She dragged her fingernails against his thighs, felt the muscle quiver beneath her fingers, and sucked him deep. 

His eyes were squeezed shut, his fists clenching, a whispered litany of curses falling from his lips; she imagined him coming apart for her, but his fist in her hair loosened as he struggled for breath. 

“Phryne. Phryne. I--oh fuck--I want--” 

He was drawing her up, gentle but insistent, and she rose above him, kissing him deeply as she guided his cock inside. She gasped against his lips; he smirked in response, pulsing his hips to draw the sound from her again. Setting the pace, slow and steady and pulling them both towards climax, she peppered his face with soft kisses, still silent. They moved together languidly, the feel of skin against skin as powerful as the coiling tension in her gut; he slipped his hand between them and she sped up, losing her rhythm, desperate for their mutual release, panting. The tendons on his neck were straining and she ground down on her next thrust, a swivel of her hips sending them both over the edge in a blaze of pleasure. 

She collapsed against his chest and his arms wrapped around her, holding her close, his breath tickling her hair. 

“You alright?” he eventually asked, thumb stroking the skin of her back.

“Perfect,” she said, surprised that her voice didn’t crack. A warmth she realised was contentment filled her; it was not a sensation she usually associated with sex, but she nestled against him easily, entirely certain.

_He was there. With her. Together._

Their reunion had been every bit as passionate and explosive as Phryne had imagined, but this moment might be better.


End file.
